


I Felt You In My Legs

by ArtemisWalsh



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisWalsh/pseuds/ArtemisWalsh
Summary: I wrote this at 2am and its gay





	

Fereldan nights had no rivals. In the forests and isolated roads, no lights or lanterns cut into the night’s darkness. Only the few lit torches around the camp gave light and color to the menagerie’s living space. A few white tents and chests. For some, it was a strange development. For some, a falling from their previous lifestyle. For others, almost a luxury.  


Morrigan preferred to rest in an abode of her own creation, away from the others. But that did not stop her from watching the rest of the Grey Warden’s collection. And one particular piece interested her most of all. That redheaded Orlesian priestess, such a peculiar thing. Morrigan had seen her fight, gracefully releasing one arrow after another. It must take masterful finger work and considerable strength to shoot an arrow to far and so true to form. Where did a soft young thing like herself learn such skills? There was only one way to find out.  


She laid down her staff and stood from her small bench in the abode. She strode across the campsite to where Lelianna stood by the main fire. A quick glance around told Morrigan that everyone else had gone to sleep. The redhead had her hands clasped together. She almost seemed to be praying. “Just what are you doing?” Morrigan asked.  


It took the priestess a moment to realize someone was talking to her. She slowly stood up, unlaced her fingers, and turned to face the strange witch. “Praying to the Maker.”  


“I see” Morrigan said. “Praying for what, exactly?”  


“A swift end to this conflict” Lelianna replied. “The safety of my company. Peace.”  


“Be careful what you wish for.” Morrigan chuckled. “A total Darkspawn victory is a swift end to the conflict, is it not?”  


Lelianna paused for a moment. “Yes” She said. “I suppose it is.”  


“Your performance with the bow is impressive.” Morrigan said, crossing her arms and leaning to the side. “Almost as impressive as my spells.”  


“Thank….you?” Lelianna replied, unsure of how to proceed. What did the witch want?  


“Where did a priest like yourself learn such things?” She asked.  


Ah. Here it was. The true intent of tonight’s conversation. The witch had finally made herself plain. “I was not always a priest. That is all I will say in the matter.” She folded her arms, and turned slightly away from Morrigan.  


“Oh, dear me.” She held her hands up. “Have I touched a nerve?”  


“I will not talk about my past. Not to the warden, not to Alistair, not even a pretty witch like yoursel—” her voice dropped off mid word. Not so much the slow dying out of a man’s voice as he fell from a cliff, but rather akin to an abrupt dismounting from a horse. Color rushed like a river to Lelianna’s cheeks, and she turned fully away.  


“Excuse me?” Morrigan tried to hear the priestess’ declaration again and again, trying to find whatever had caused such a dramatic turn in her posture. “Did…did you just call me pretty?” There were many things the shapeshifter would call herself, and many things she had been called. Pretty did not often make either list, and never had another woman called her as such.  


“I….I meant….” I meant. What else would she have been trying to say? Lelianna could say that she meant petty. The witch was certainly that. But in truth, she meant nothing else when the word slipped out of her mouth. She indeed did think the witch was pretty.  


“You meant to say that you didn’t trust me.” Morrigan said. Slowly, one hand drifted to the priestess’ shoulder. “But you said something else.”  


“Don’t–!” Lelianna twisted around to throw off the hand on her shoulder, but stopped short when she realized that it belonged to the witch. “What are you…”  


“So, you think I’m pretty?” It was all Morrigan could do to not burst into laughter. This clandestine archer, this devout priestess, this mysterious shadow with an obscure past, thought that she was pretty. What luck that when the shapeshifter poured her interest into someone, she seemed to show interest back. “You seem rather flustered for someone who only thinks I am ‘pretty’”  


Dammit, why was she doing this now? Lelianna’s face was no doubt as bright red as her hair, and there was nothing she could do to hide it. She couldn’t even bring herself to break off the hand on her arm; it felt too warm and relaxing to feel the touch of another woman again. “I…I don’t think I…I think you’re very pretty.” She was breathing fast now, and beginning to stumble over words.  


Morrigan barely held back her amusement now. Chuckling, she rested her other arm on the archer’s forearm. “Do you want to know what I think?” The redhead nodded with wide eyes and red cheeks. Chuckling, Morrigan leaned in near her ear. “I want to fuck the red right out of your hair.”  


That did it. Like some lightning strike that tore to earth as the catalyst for a forest fire, such a declaration from the witch tore off any reservations from Lelianna. She grabbed Morrigan by the purple straps of her garmets and pressed their lips together.  


Putting her strong archer arms to good use, the priestess grabbed and kissed Morrigan. The shock of this maneuver allowed a few seconds undisturbed by a reaction. Even if Morrigan had been able to react, she doubted she would have. This was exactly the sort of reaction she was hoping for, even if it wasn’t expected. Morrigan found special humor in the method that the priestess used to pull Morrigan in. Perhaps she had other things in mind. Taking advantage of a moment of rest, she pulled away and asked “How long were you bottling this up?”  


The redheaded priestess craned her neck back, inhaling deeply with the pleasure and exhilaration of kissing someone. Kissing another woman. Kissing an apostate. It felt amazing. “Far too long”  


A grin flashed across Morrigan’s face as she considered the display in front of her, and the unusual method Lelianna had used to pull her in. Perhaps she had greater things in mind. “Perhaps we should take this to my tent?”  


Leliana smiled blissfully as the dark haired witch put to words what she had already given thought. She stole another quick kiss, grabbed Morrigan’s hand, and practically pulled her over to the privacy of the abode.


End file.
